


You said it would be painless. It wasn't that at all.

by oathkeptroxas



Category: Kingdom Hearts, Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Character Study, Existential Crisis, False Memories, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Memories, Minor Axel/Saïx (Kingdom Hearts), Minor Naminé/Xion (Kingdom Hearts), Minor Roxas/Xion (Kingdom Hearts), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathkeptroxas/pseuds/oathkeptroxas
Summary: Roxas character study, set during and then post Kingdom Hearts III.Roxas has trouble reconciling his real life with his fabricated memories. How can you lose someone you never had?Title taken from "Pink Rabbits" by The National.
Relationships: Hayner/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	You said it would be painless. It wasn't that at all.

From the very moment he came into existence, he'd been trapped. Unhinged in a cycle of confusion, resentment, loss. Confusion, resentment, and then loss. He carried his bitterness around with him, there was a time (more than one), when it had been all he had.

In the fleeting and far between moments of reprieve, he learnt of friendship, loyalty, love. And just as surely, he was confronted with loneliness, betrayal, hatred. There had never been a moment when he was truly free. No decision he had ever made was ever wholly of his own volition. How could he not have felt his puppet strings until they had wrapped around him, clinched tight, completely?

It was with this melancholy that Roxas grew to understand that nothing was truly his to begin with. He tried not to be bitter about that, but that resentful, jaded part of him was so deep-rooted. It was one of the endless ways in which he and Sora were entirely separate. He would never be the hero in the story. The story was never his to tell. 

"You should share some of that hatred with Sora," DiZ had told him. Everything else Roxas had ever known had been Sora's already, shared with him in a temporary, involuntary way. His anger had been the only thing that was his. Roxas often wondered if it had permeated Sora's being too in the end, tainted him somehow.

It was almost paradoxical. He didn't exist yet he somehow seemed to _be_. He was confined to the darkness, yet he harnessed light, called upon it and wielded it in ways many others could only dream of. He was but a figment of a larger, more important being.

Despite all of this, Roxas couldn't hate Sora. They had both been pawns in larger situations, and so what if Roxas got the short end of that stick? That wasn't Sora's fault. Roxas knew that. It was a testament to how much he'd grown.

Still, there were emotions, many of which Roxas didn't have names for, that were raw and primal, too big for him to contain. They slipped through the cracks, harsh words fell from Sora's tongue, tears of mourning dripped from Sora's eyes. Sometimes Sora didn't even notice. But as time wore on, Roxas became resigned. He faded away to the background, just another connection that Sora once made. He didn't have the strength or purpose to wrangle for control. What would be the point? He would never win. This body, this life, didn't belong to him. He had made his peace with Sora, challenged him and lost, rejoined him, advised him, believed in him. 

Roxas became somewhat dormant after that. Like a smudge on Sora's soul, he was ever present but almost inconsequential. Everything changed when Sora got to Twilight Town. There was a tugging inside of Roxas, a longing for the only place he'd ever thought of as home. And with its reappearance, Roxas found himself paying closer attention. Sora was looking for him. Sora wanted to make him whole. Though there were times when Roxas doubted such a thing could ever be possible, he knew that if anyone could find a way, it was Sora.

It shouldn't have surprised Roxas that Twilight Town was the first place Sora thought to search. But he was touched, overwhelmed with the knowledge that his Somebody knew how much this place meant to him, how much of who he was belonged there. It was where Roxas forged his connections.

The oranges and reds of sunset lit Roxas up in a way he hadn't felt in so long, too long. It filled him with so much hopeful nostalgia just to see this place, so much busier and more built-up than he left it. It was with a melancholic aside that he realized that the Twilight Town he inhabited was a projection, and likely sparse for convenience and necessity. Now, confronted with the real Twilight Town when it's bustling, it's both familiar and brand new. 

The jolt of excitement was uncontainable when he saw Tram Common, he wondered if Sora could feel it too. The candy shop where they always bought their ice cream, the notice board where they took on any and every job just for a chance at a new adventure, the brick steps where he sprained his ankle when Hayner bet him he couldn't land his skateboard on the roof of a tram…

Except...none of that ever really happened. Roxas was the only one who would ever know these happenstances. An ache built when Roxas was confronted with the reality that all of the things he had credited with making him who he was, were mere fabrications. Namine did that to him. She invented him under DiZ's watchful eye, and who was Roxas really?

That anger, that resentment that sparked and festered, came back. It was bitter and cloying and so _not like Sora_. It was the only thing that Roxas had. It was his. This, Sora could not touch. He wondered if there had ever been a moment, one single second where he had made a decision for himself, when he was afforded the agency to choose. He was an amalgamation of all the things people needed him to be. He was a patchwork of other people's lives, stitched together and pulled apart without consent. 

Twilight Town was the only place he'd ever felt happy, the only place he'd ever known peace. Even that was tainted.

And that was when he heard it. Those voices. He had years worth of memories, planted, fabricated or not, that had those voices striking a chord within him. Hayner, Pence, Olette.

He watched through Sora's eyes, as they ran. A wave of heartless, a tornado of sorts, was hot on their heels. Roxas was ready to draw his own blades before he remembered that he was powerless, dependant solely on Sora. He watched, mesmerized as the three of them sprinted towards and then past him. They recognized Sora, and Roxas allowed himself a moment of shock and confusion. It seemed wholly unfair that Sora would know the real them in a way that Roxas couldn't.

Hayner was the same cocky, self-assured guy that Roxas remembered, quipping and nonchalant even at the most inopportune moments. It made Roxas soften and ache. The time they'd spent together may not have been real, yet Hayner was so familiar to him. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse that DiZ had gotten the details right.

He watched, bereft and endlessly lonely as Pence and Goofy compared the photos. One with him, one without. He remembered that day so clearly, the first day their little gang had ever ventured through the dense forest, to find the gates of the 'haunted mansion' they'd once believed was simply local legend. Its true origins were never disclosed. Except, he didn't remember. Couldn't have remembered. It didn't happen. Not really.

He saw himself and Hayner in the photo, faces so close, so familiar. He remembered the feeling of the warmth coming off of the other boy. He remembered analysing his own behaviours because the thing that had grown and developed between them was so new and tenuous then, Olette and Pence hadn't known yet. He was so afraid of doing something to give himself away, too soft, too fond.

"He seems like a pretty cool guy," Hayner said. Roxas hoped beyond hope that he was not imagining the softness in Hayner's eyes, that he wasn't just seeing what he wanted to see.

He knew how Hayner looked in every mood. He remembered intimately the liquid amber of his eyes, in the rare times he allowed himself to be vulnerable. He recalled the feel of his lips, chapped and hesitant. They had been so out of their depth then. But, nobody had ever kissed Roxas. Not really.

After that, with the knowledge that his friends were rooting for him, Roxas felt stronger. The quest may not mean the same to them, they may not have known how much stock Roxas had in it, but Roxas was so grateful to them regardless. Just the knowledge that there was someone out there that wanted him around, enough to fight for him, without even knowing him, gave Roxas drive.

He didn't have the means to save himself. He wasn't positive there was a way for him to exist wholly and on his own, but for the first time in too long, maybe ever, he was optimistic. He paid more attention, was more present in Sora's heart after that. He let Sora see things, feel things. He felt like he was allowing Sora access to a part of himself that had previously only come out when he'd been fighting for control. But they were in harmony now.

The walls started to crumble some time later, many worlds came and went. Sora rushed into the fray, and stood between Kairi and Axel. Roxas was immediately drawn to their hooded adversary. He knew. He knew who that was. He would've given anything to save her. He would have laid waste to the entire Organization or died trying if it meant he would avenge her. Didn't Axel know? Couldn't he see? 

Roxas wondered if anyone else knew how it felt to learn that the friends you thought you had were imaginary, and the only two real friends you knew? Well, one was dead and the other, a liar.

The three of them were together again, impossibly. But still Roxas was locked up tight in a body that wasn't his and Sora was guarding her blows and this needed to end and- "Xion!" 

Her name, from Sora's tongue, but in Roxas' voice. She stumbled back and she cried in agony and Roxas just _knew_ that she was remembering. Whether it was her name, or his voice, that acted as the trigger is irrelevant. 

Suddenly, her name was heard again, this time from Axel as he feebly reached out. Finally, Roxas had broken through, was strong enough in the presence of these people to make a difference. He showed Sora his heart, and together, Nobody and Somebody joined forces in a way that they could never do before. And Roxas was free.

He didn't know the logistics of it, didn't even care to. All that mattered was that Axel and Xion were the most powerful connections that Roxas had ever forged, and it seemed that his rebirth could only have happened in their presence. He finally has an outlet for his rage. The weight of a blade in each hand was familiar and empowering.

The one thing that brought them together was also the thing that kept them prisoner, the mark that Xehanort had bestowed upon them, their namesake. Roxas refused to allow anyone to have power over the recusant's sigil a single second longer.

After the battle, things got simultaneously calmer and more complex. He watched on, saddened and clueless, as Axel cradled Saix. The intimacy in the gesture, the way they spoke in hushed tones about a history that Roxas wasn't privy to, had Roxas wondering if he'd ever known Axel - or, rather, Lea - at all.

Roxas couldn't help but be reminded of the time he had cradled Xion as she'd departed. So much wasted time. But, more so, he thought of someone else. As he looked on, watched Axel's features shift in his heartache, he thought _Maybe Saix was your Hayner. You lost him to another version of yourself._

Many battles were fought that day. When it finally ended, there was no relief, no feeling of calm. The hits had been coming so hard and for so long that Roxas refused to let his guard down. The restless feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop never really left him. Even with the good things that came afterward, the return to Twilight Town, the resurrection of Saix - Isa - and the apologies he gave, even when Roxas finally had his own existence, the worry lingered. 

The hardest part was meeting Hayner, Pence and Olette. It wasn't for the first time, not even in this reality, but it felt like it all the same. Roxas had longed for so many things. It was somewhat ironic that despite all of the obstacles he'd overcome, the achievements that shouldn't have been possible, the thing he longed for the most and seemed to be the most unobtainable, was Hayner.

The _real_ Hayner wasn't _his_ Hayner. Every day, Roxas and Xion would rejoin the Twilight Town gang and try in any way they could to sift through and study their memories. And every day, Roxas held back. There were things he didn't want them to know. Things that were sacred and his, and a part of him hated Namine and Riku and DiZ, for being privy to the things when they had _no right_ to know him like that. Roxas couldn't bear the thought of the real Hayner learning these things too. Roxas had never been lucky, and he knew the chance of the real Hayner being positively responsive to Roxas' feelings was slim, and Roxas wasn't even sure he wanted that anyway. It wasn't his Hayner after all.

Loving someone was hard enough at the best of times, but losing someone he loved, being alone in the grief, and having to look into the living, breathing, _thriving_ face of that lost love was suffocating. Roxas had to make small talk and feign casual indifference, forced to watch the way the afternoon sunlight danced in the earthy depths of Hayner's eyes. His face was a stoic mask. His fledgling heart was in pieces.

The more they tried to uncover the intricacies of the simulated Twilight Town, the more on edge Roxas became. He felt like they were getting dangerously close to things he would prefer to remain buried. He understood that there was a wealth of information that they could benefit from. Were there other virtual worlds? How did the Organization infiltrate it? What methods and knowledge would they need to hi-jack that data, and what other data had they obtained that way?

But Roxas knew that in order to find the answers they sought, they may reveal and unravel the intimate, personal connections. These connections had given Roxas his freedom, as falsified and ephemeral as it may have been. He wasn't ready for these pieces of himself to be laid out for careful inspection. They weren't anybody else's to categorize and judge. 

He tried not to think about the possibility of the real Hayner learning of the dynamic he had shared with the simulated Hayner. The fall-out could have him losing the Hayner he had left. He may have been a stranger in many ways, but seeing his face and existing in his presence was something Roxas couldn't imagine losing. Regardless of how painful it was, the idea of losing any version of Hayner again in any way was exponentially more painful.

To make matters worse, Hayner himself - as well meaning as he was - only served to drive the knife in deeper. Torturous, the way he casually slung his arm so effortlessly around Roxas' shoulders with a familiarity he couldn't really feel; his boisterous laugh that sparked something deep in Roxas' chest at the sound. Being around him left Roxas' skin feeling too tight.

Roxas had only too much experience with circumstances beyond his control. Perhaps he had been naive in his belief that his own independent existence would come part and parcel with his own agency. He still felt like he was backed into corners, that the things he wanted were out of reach, that all decisions were made for him. He couldn't speak up. He couldn't change the course he was on. And as time passed the resentment he had known so well returned, it simmered beneath the surface, mixed with his frustration and hopelessness. It was only a matter of time before he lashed out.

It came to ahead one misty twilight, he and Xion were the first to arrive atop of the clock tower, and he simply couldn't hold it back any longer. Seeing the budding trust and love that was growing anew between Axel and Saix, watching as Xion and Namine grew increasingly closer, left Roxas bereft and bitter.

"Did you know?" He demanded, his fists clenched and teeth gritted. 

Xion looked surprised by his outburst, but there was a softness, something in her eyes that was equal parts compassion and guilt.

"Did you know what Namine would do to me?" Roxas specified, his voice like steel.

"No!" She insisted. "How could I? All I knew was that we couldn't co-exist. I was killing you, Roxas!"

"So, what?" He huffed. "You just trick me into killing you instead?! Look, either you knew Namine was going to replace my memories, or you thought that it was fair to make me live with the grief of losing you, knowing that I was to blame."

"I never blamed you, Roxas." Xion whispered, her fingers were twining and untwining in the pleats of her skirt. "I did what I had to. It was the only way."

"Why am I the one who always seems to have to deal with the consequences of everyone else's decisions?" 

"Nobody came out of this unscathed. I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry for that. But I can't regret my choices. And Namine isn't to blame." 

Xion reached over to cup his face, and he remembered the gesture from before when it was frail and cold and fading. It was one of the many things Roxas would carry with him. The shimmer in the atmosphere she left behind was mirrored now in the sparkle of her eyes. As Roxas' own eyes began to water, her image became blurred in his vision. He couldn't lose her again.

"None of it was real," his voice cracked, he'd lost the edge to his anger.

"But it was real, Roxas. Those memories, those feelings. To you, they're real. It's all the same. Hearts can't tell the difference." She consoled him.

Xion may not have understood entirely, never could. But she came closer than anyone else. Her fierce loyalty to both Roxas and Namine would have her defending them to her dying breath, and he should have known his anger at Namine wouldn't have been well-received. He knew it was misplaced, but he had no outlet for this _grief_ inside him. 

Xion and he, they had loved each other so dearly. They had loved each other in a way that was pure and unfiltered. They hadn't known what love was or what it meant, it had never been made for them, wasn't supposed to ever be something they were capable of. They had cultivated it anyway. They had latched onto each other with so much desperate fondness. But with their new freedom came the realization that the connection they had forged - as true as it was - was forged in dire circumstances, and would always be a reminder of that prior life. 

Now, Xion was his best friend. She understood him better than anybody else ever could. She knew the parts of him he kept hidden from everyone else. And he loved her, he loved her so much. But the love he felt for her could never be romantic in nature. Not after what they knew now. Not after Namine. Not after…Hayner.

He played the blame game, in the cycle of his grief. He looked at Namine and thought " _You!_ You did this to me!" He looked at Sora and thought "I am the consequence of your decisions. The byproduct of your choices." He looked at Riku and he hated him a little, quietly seethed.

It was like somebody died. The boy he loved was only a memory.

He looked to Hayner and thought "I wish I knew how to not love you. I wish I could forget, too."

But Hayner hadn't forgotten. There was nothing to forget. Roxas never existed at all.


End file.
